


Third wheel

by Cutebutpsycho



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutebutpsycho/pseuds/Cutebutpsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>soyeahso on Tumblr had this prompt: </p><p>Sally and Molly decide to go on a road trip in the US to celebrate closing a big case (Molly did some of the trace analysis) and Sherlock shows up at the airport with his little wheelie suitcase looking sad and pathetic so they let him come along. </p><p>And I ran with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third wheel

Sally ran her hands through her hair and glared at Molly. “Really?” she spit out. “Really?”

Molly wrung her hands and looked so apologetic. “I know, but —”

Sally huffed a sigh. Of course  _he_ would have to interfere. 

"We — not he mind you --  _we_  were working on that case for two weeks,” she growled. “You cracked the case without his help, I got the collar with Lestrade. This was supposed to be our time together. I want to sit on the beach and drink little drinks with umbrellas in them.”

"We would be together," she whispered. "But with him."

Sally glanced over at Sherlock, who was sitting forlornly — when did that ever happen? — in the airport lounge.  She pinched the bridge of her nose. They had checked in, everything was absolutely perfect, then  _he_  had to show up at the airport. With a little wheelie suitcase and his suit impeccably pressed. 

At first he was arrogant, but Sally and Molly told him firmly  _no._  This was their holiday in Florida to sit on the beach, drink cool drinks with umbrellas in them, read their books and be warm and not think about consulting detectives, work or anything but watching extremely fit men in extremely small swim shorts run around.

Then he began to threaten, saying he could just buy a plane ticket for the same flight and there wasn’t anything they could do to stop him. Sally pointed out that both she and Molly had Mycroft’s number and he had the ability to pull Sherlock’s visas if need be.

That’s when he finally gave them what they wanted.

"I’m sorry," he began. "I’m sorry I was a prat, I’m sorry I wrecked the lab and left a mess for Molly to clean up, I’m sorry I insulted your instincts," he told Sally. 

"Why are you so hellbent on coming anyway?" Molly asked.

"Murder," he answered, but somehow, both women knew he was lying. There was something in his expression that just seemed to say  _I don’t want to be left alone, but I don’t want to say why and if you make me I’d rather stab myself in the face with a spork._

Which was why Molly was now advocating for him. 

"We can’t ogle fit men in tiny trunks now," Sally complained. "He’s going to sit on the beach, deduce everything about them and there’s no mystery or fun in this. And he’ll insult everyone. Can you see him sitting on the beach, reading a book or drinking a drink with a little umbrella in it?"

Molly winced. “You’re right,” she said. “But can you deny that whatever happens with him wouldn’t be interesting?” She focused a puppy-dog stare at Sally, then started whimpering.

"Oh. My. God," Sally began laughing, "You just want to hit the mile-high club with him don’t you?"

There was a devilish gleam in Molly’s eye. “I’ll take care of him and feed him and give him walkies,” she cajoled.

"Fine," Sally sighed. "But on one condition."

Molly squealed with joy and hugged Sally. “What?”

"He has to put on those horrifying Bermuda shorts, I get to take a picture and email it to Lestrade. I get to pick the shorts."

"Deal," Molly shook Sally’s hand. 


End file.
